*sighs* The more I do research, the more I realise that this story contains/will contain so many inaccuracies and inconsistencies. Such as, it was only recently that I found out about pro bono i.e. unpaid professional work, especially legal work for a client with low income. I'll need to go back and change the other chapters.

Speaking of research, I haven't the foggiest of how legal contracts are supposed to work/sound, so that's why this chapter took so long.

Happy New Year to all you lovely people.

6 spoons.

"You're very lucky, by the way," Mr Albaston said, bringing a wad of papers stapled together back into the room. "I usually charge £500 for three questions."

"That's a bit steep, isn't it?" Ryan commented, though not without noticing Finley facepalming next to him.

"Maybe so, but it's a living," Mr Albaston shrugged.

"What if they only ask one or two questions?"

"£200 each, £500 is a deal." Mr Albaston smirked slightly before asking, "Now, what's your third question?"

Ryan blinked in surprise, but Finley facepalmed again and groaned loudly. "Do you have to do that every time, dad?" Even the facepalms had left him with a bruise on his bald head.

Mr Albaston was roaring with laughter in the meantime. "I'm joking, Ryan, I'm not charging you a penny," he reassured. "All of this is pro bono."

"Basically, he means that he's not charging you because he feels sorry for you because you're living in care, living on a peanut allowance and dying of cancer to boot," Finley put it bluntly.

Ryan rolled his eyes. Now he saw where Finley's tendency for quips had come from.

"Now, let's look at this, shall we?" Mr Albaston said, placing the contract in Ryan's lap. "I'll let you read over it, take as long as you need and don't be afraid to ask if you don't understand something."

Truth be told, there was rather a lot in the contract that Ryan didn't understand, making him feel painfully simple, but he refused to ask for help out of sheer pride, despite the fact that cancer had forced him to step off his high horse. But he could get the gist out of some parts - he knew this surgery would paralyse him, he was prepared to deal with the consequences and he wouldn't blame or take legal action against the medics who allowed it or carried it out.

All there was left was for him, his legal guardian and all the medics involved to sign it.

Shit. He hadn't told Mike and May-Li he was doing this. They knew he wanted it, but as far as they knew, it wasn't going to happen as Dr Gareth had disallowed it. It wasn't as if he could go through with the whole thing on the sly either.

It was degrading, truth be told - he used to be able to talk his way out of a room with no doors, but it seemed like his new situation had robbed him even of that. The sooner he could get this tumour out of him, the better.

"You okay?" Finley asked, seeing the look on his face.

"Yeah," Ryan said quickly, snapping back to reality. "Just thinking."

"Having second thoughts?" Mr Albaston asked. "Can't say I blame you, this will be a radical operation."

"I can't be the first person to have thought of something like this, though," Ryan pointed out.

"You're not," Mr Albaston said. "Have you ever heard of the hemispherectomy, Ryan? It's an operation where they cut out half of your brain."

Ryan's eyes widened. "Who on Earth would want that?"

"People with otherwise incurable epilepsy," Mr Albaston explained. "In that case, the affected half of the brain will be mostly non-functional anyway."

"The part of my spinal cord that has cancer growing on it isn't very functional," Ryan said.

"That may be so, but I'm telling you this because the hemispherectomy was also used to treat brain tumours back in the day," Mr Albaston explained. "What they found was that the cancer just grew back on the other hemisphere."

His last words were spoken with a hint of grave warning that made Ryan scared all over again. "But they'll still treat me if it comes back, right?"

"Unless you want me to write up a contract stating otherwise," Mr Albaston replied. "Just maybe don't ask them to cut out your spinal cord again - if we keep going like this, you'll be in very sad shape indeed by the end of it."

"You'll be lucky to be in very sad shape indeed," Finley quipped, though his witticism only conjured up scenarios of what could be worse than very sad shape indeed in Ryan's mind. "Have you told your care workers?" he asked, drawing his attention back to the next hurdle that had been occupying Ryan's thoughts.

"They know I want it, but they don't know about this," Ryan said, gesturing to the contract. He wondered briefly how Mike, May-Li and Dr Gareth would react when they found out.

The care workers would probably scold him for attempting something so "reckless" behind their backs and ground him for a month save for school and radiotherapy (which was just as well because going out expended many spoons) and Dr Gareth, he suspected, would be running out of patience with him. He was walking on thin ice with his oncologist right now - and he suspected that this contract would cause him to plunge into the glacial depths below.

"I could tell them myself if you want," Mr Albaston offered. "I have Dr Gareth's email address, so all I need are theirs."

"...fine, thanks," Ryan said, after a pause. "I'll need to understand this a bit better first, though."

"Absolutely no problem," Mr Albaston smiled, standing up from where he had been seated on the bed next to his son. "Feel free to contact me again if you don't understand anything, my phone number is on the card Finley gave you."

"Thanks for doing this," Ryan mumbled, shaking the lawyer's outstretched hand and making to leave.

But when he tried to stand up, he found that he couldn't. Difficulty walking was nothing new for him, but this was the first time he found himself totally unable to stand - and both his legs felt flaccid and stiff at the same time, like he had steel bars in his muscles that were weighing him down.

"I ... can't get up," was all he said, sounding defeated.

"What?" Finley questioned, frowning in concern.

"My legs hurt. A lot."

"I thought that was normal for you,"

"Not this much," Ryan said, pressing his knuckles into his thigh, trying to get some feeling back. "Well, they both hurt and feel numb at the same time, it's hard to describe."

"Sounds like sciatica."

The three males turned to see Rosemary leaning on the doorframe, arms folded and observing the conversation with an owlish stare that seemed to be magnified by her glasses. "I have it too, though only in one leg at a time. If you have it in both legs, it's usually a sign of something really serious." Ryan noticed that she seemed to be putting all her weight on one leg.

"I already know it's cancer, you can't get much more serious than that," Ryan retorted.

"Rosemary," Mr Albaston sighed, giving her a stern look, "what did I tell you about listening in on private conversations?"

"That's funny, I can't remember either," Rosemary replied nonchalantly. "Fin, I'm about to watch A Clockwork Orange, do you wanna watch it with me?"

"Give us a minute," Finley replied, waving her out of the room. She left, walking in a bizarre way that involved stepping properly on one leg but flinging the other out at the hip, like the knee didn't work properly.

"How many spoons do you have?" Finley asked.

"Five," Ryan replied, as the meeting had taken up another one. He realised with dismay that he'd started the journey with ten spoons and three had been used up just getting to the chair he was sitting on. Even if he somehow managed to get back home with sciatic legs, he wouldn't be able to do anything but eat dinner and go to bed - and that was the best case scenario.

"Do you want me to give you a lift home?" Mr Albaston offered.

"No thanks," Ryan declined, realising it would look very suspicious if he came back in an apparent stranger's car. He also wasn't too comfortable with giving a man he'd just met his address.

On the other hand, he realised, he couldn't even stand up from the chair he as in, let alone walk back to the bus stop. He was stuck between a rock and a hard place - have Mr Albaston drive him home and be questioned, or not get home for at least another hour and be told off for staying out too late and missing dinner. He could already hear May-Li's lecture on how missing a meal could spell out trouble in his sick state.

"Rosemary says sciatica takes a while to clear up, you'll probably be here a while," Finley said. "Did you get the bus here?" A nod.

"How about a compromise, then," Mr Albaston said. "I drive you to the bus stop and then you can take the bus to where you need to be. Is that okay?"

Ryan knew he didn't have much choice. "That's fine, thanks."

The fact that he had to be piggy-backed down the stairs partially made him regret the offer, but he realised that at some point, he had to suck these indignities up. That was cancer for you.

"If you think this is bad, imagine what it'll be like when you do have that surgery," Finley commented. "You'll have to be carted around everywhere."

We'll see about that, Ryan scoffed internally. He knew he'd need some extra assistance, of course, but there were ways to get up and down stairs in a wheelchair. He knew Chloe could, though she didn't do it often because it took a while.

"Good luck with that contract," Mr Albaston said, dropping Ryan off at the bus stop. "Contact me if you want to meet again."

The lift from Mr Albaston meant that Ryan only had to spend one spoon on getting home, leaving him with four. Enough for dinner, going up the stairs and going to bed, meaning he still had one left for himself. He wasn't sure if spoons carried over to the next day if you didn't use them, but maybe he could get away with-

"Mischief!" Bailey's voice commanded as the large dog bounded straight to the door, clearly eager for a walk.

Unfortunately, the collie happened to knock straight into Ryan, causing him to stumble and land heavily on his already painful legs.

3 spoons. So much for that.

"Mischief!" Bailey scolded, gently pushing him back and away from Ryan, for which he was very grateful. "Sorry about that," he said awkwardly, offering his hand for Ryan to take and pretending not to notice th important-looking documents he had with him.

"Whatever," Ryan muttered, taking Bailey's hand and using it to pull himself up.

"I think he's got a girlfriend," Bailey went on, ignoring the fact that Ryan couldn't care less about his pet's exploits. "He's been spending a lot of time with the dog from across the road."

She's not the only bitch around here, Ryan thought, staggering over to the sofa in the foyer and surreptitiously hiding the contract under a cushion.

"What's going on here?" Mike poked his head out of the office at the sound of the minor commotion, before turning to Ryan regaining his bearings on the seat. "Ryan, you okay?"

The sick teenager just turned his head, looked him dead in the eye and uttered:

"Cancer fucking sucks."

I have sciatica myself (though thankfully not double sciatica) and all the details about it in this are taken from my own experiences, from the way it feels to the weird limp Rosemary has. I'd be lying if I said she wasn't based on my younger self a little bit - or a lot.

I'll admit, I'm not too proud of this one. I've hit a bit of a block lately, but I'm hoping I can get to the more exciting parts now.